


A Handful of Flowers

by HeyNeon



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyNeon/pseuds/HeyNeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk Hawke and Merrill sit in the Hanged Man one evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Handful of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Merrill is deliberately misspelled because Hawke is too drunk to say it right.

“Hawke, you’ve been drinking a lot tonight. Something on your mind?”

The Dalish elf looked over at her already inebriated friend, taking a sip from her own mug of alcohol. Merrill had grown to tolerate the bitter drink after so many evenings spent with friends here at the Hanged Man. The woman who sat beside her only grunted in reply, swirling the drink absentmindedly.

On any other night, Hawke would be trying to best Varric in a drinking contest or Isabela in a game of cards. Fenris would come along too, providing his own kind of liquor- presumably nicked from the abandoned cellars. Occasionally, Aveline would drop by as well if she had no more business to deal with or simply to get away from the annoying Seneschal Bran. Anders came just for the card games. The last time he tried to beat Varric drinking had him lying on the ground passed out. Tonight, however, only Merrill and Hawke sat side by side in the Hanged Man. Everybody else had some form of business to deal with, leaving the rogue and the mage to drink by themselves.

“I… I gotta… I gotta probluuhm Merrl.” Hawke began to sway unsteadily on her seat.

Fearing for her inevitable fall, Merrill steadied the woman by placing her hands on Hawke's shoulders. Merrill wasn’t sure if the careless dip Hawke made with her head was some form of appreciation or she was simply too drunk to sit upright but nonetheless kept her hands on Hawke’s shoulder in case she starts wobbling again.

“You- Y’see, Merrl, I like someone- no… I love him!” Hawke managed to will her hands in pulling Merrill forward, almost making her fall off her own seat in doing so. Her hands cupped Merrill’s pale face, hardly noticing the scent of liquor in Hawke’s breath. The Fereldan woman just kept mouthing ‘I love him’ as she stared intensely into Merrill’s confused eyes. Well, as intensely as a drunk woman can, anyway.

“So, what seems to be problem? Do we have to do something like what we did with Aveline? Like a… a walk on The Wounded Coast?” For a moment, Hawke considered the idea before frantically waving her hands around expressing her disagreement.

“No, nooo! Tooo obviouss! I need somethin’… something subtle.” With those words, Merrill was off, suggesting a variety of ways for Hawke to express her feelings for this man, ranging from a basket of kittens to dalish traditions. All of which, despite Merrill’s best efforts to pitch the idea to Hawke, were all rejected.

“Did you challenge Hawke to a drinking challenge, Daisy?” Merrill turned to smile at her dwarven friend who reciprocated the greeting with a smile of his own before pulling back a chair for him to sit on. Hawke only sat on her chair with a blank stare on her face- probably contemplating another way to profess her affection for this lucky fellow. Varric motioned to their intoxicated companion with a raised brow to which Merrill divulged the entirety of their conversation, even imitating Hawke’s drunken mishmash of words. The dwarf listened with interest. Another juicy segment of Hawke’s adventures!

So far, Hawke has not divulged the identity of the one she loved. Varric crossed off the chances that Hawke harboured feelings for their resident ex-Grey Warden. He was almost certain that Hawke liked was the moody Tevinter elf. Nobody else fit the description of a “White-haired elf with green eyes that remind me of the fields at home before the Blight ruined it and a voice that just sends tingles down to my spine” like Fenris and yet something didn’t seem to fit.

“Flowers! Thatsh it!” Hawke suddenly exclaimed, rising from her seat so abruptly that it sent her drink flying towards Varric. She glanced briefly at Varric, muttering her something that sounded like an apology before grabbing Merrill by the hand and running out of the Hanged Man and into the dusty streets of Lowtown.

 

—

“Hawke!”

“Shooosh Merruhl.. just keep the light steady.” Yes, Merrill enjoyed visting the Viscount’s gardens. Yes, she liked walking down the neat pathways and admiring the lovely flowers as she strolled passed them. Yes, she was costing Varric a fortune but breaking into the garden, knocking out the guards and trying to find a specific flower under the cloak of darkness was certainly not what Merrill had expected Hawke. Well, if she was that desperate to get the flowers, the gardens were the only place to get them without venturing out of Kirkwall.

Now, the Dalish elf just watched her drunk friend pick flowers with the most care an intoxicated person can give. The flowers that Hawke had chosen were a deep red-violet in colour- beautiful in their own right but she thought the Andraste’s Grace that grew just down the path were far more pleasing to look at.

“Why those Hawke?” The Fereldan woman gazed down at the closed roses that she held in her hand. She looked back at Merrill with a certain calmness in her eyes that she lacked before. Hawke was not-quite-sober as that calm was replaced with a goofy smile and a soft chuckle before giving the flowers for Merrill to hold on to.

“They have a special meaning, Merrll…” She whispered into the crisp evening air, looking at the waning ivory moon as she did with a dreamy gaze.

 

—

Fortunately for the elven apostate, she and her companion were not attacked by an bandits as they walked through Hightown to reach her drunken companion’s mansion. Stairs proved to be quite difficult for Hawke, stumbling on them half the time and eventually resorting to a laughable crawl while Merrill waited at the top of the steps. The elf tried to stifle a laugh as she watched Hawke literally dragging herself with whatever strength she had left just to conquer the concrete steps.

“I’mma do it Merrl! I’mma show youuu! I can do this by myself!”

Merrill still held the small bunch of red-violet roses that Hawke picked in her hand. She wondered what the ‘special meaning’ of these little flowers were since Hawke never really bothered to explain their significance any further. At any rate, Merrill silently wished Hawke good luck on her endeavours in romance- even if this was brought upon by too many drinks in the Hanged Man. She hoped that- the recipient would appreciate the gesture and maybe- just maybe, return the feelings. The elf tightened her grip on the blossoms, allowing a gentle glow of blue to emanate from her fingers and crawl up the roses’ stems. The roses began to unfurl itself in a slow, graceful motion due to Merrill’s magic, despite it being still well into the night.

“Now look who’sh behind eh Merri- no, uh, Merril?”

“Coming!”

 

—

“Good evenin’ Bodaahn! Did you send the repliesh to the letters out alreadyy?”

“Ah, yes, Messer-”

“Ooh! How unfortunate! Anyway, please send this to the lovely elven- I mean- handsome mage- uh, FirstEnchanterOrsinofirstthinginthemorningplease.”

“Sorry?”

Before Bodahn could ask Hawke to repeat what she had just said, the woman snatched the flowers from Merrill’s grasp and thrusted it into the dwarf’s hands before trying to run off to her room- only to slip and stumble yet again. From where Merrill stood, she can see Hawke’s face had turned into a soft shade of red as the Fereldan writhed in pain by the stairwell. Bodahn looked to Merrill for some kind of indication as to what had possessed his mistress this evening, worrying it was some kind of poison taking effect from their outrageous excursions.

“Hawke says she would like you to send those flowers to the First Enchanted first thing tomorrow morning.”

Merrill began to head for the exit but stopped halfway just to leave Bodahn with a last nugget of advice.

“Wrap it carefully! Oh and make sure the First Enchanter knows it is from her.”

 

—

“Bethany, is there any chance that you know what this means?” The younger Hawke sauntered over to the older man. Bethany squinted her eyes slightly as she examined the dark red-violet flowers that Orsino held in his hand.

“May I?”

“Certainly.” The girl studied the blossoms carefully, summoning small fragments of memories where her mother would tell her the meanings of each flower they passed by on their walks. These flowers were familiar- she’s sure Leandra told her what they meant…

“Rose moss!” She exclaimed suddenly, making the First Enchanter jump back in surprise. “Rose moss,” Bethany repeated, her voice a bit more reserved this time around. “It means a confession of love.”

She handed the bunch of flowers back to Orsino, which he accepted with care, staring at it as if he held a precious gem in his hands. His free hand started to stroke his chin, a habit that Bethany noticed when the First Enchanter was pondering something. Indeed, Orsino was thinking about something however, what made Bethany curious is the obvious flush on his face while he gazed at the flowers.

“First Enchanter, if I may, who were those flowers from?”

“The Champion.” Orsino muttered mindlessly, still watching the blossoms he held in his hand.

“Champ- Oh, Maker. Sister, I never thought you- I’d like to excuse myself now, First Enchanter.” Bethany couldn’t stop herself from chuckling as she left the First Enchanter on his own. A good minute passed and it wasn’t until Orsino realised that he was all by himself now.

He considered placing the rose moss in a vase in his office where it will occupy a spot on his desk, but then, Meredith might question him as to where he managed to find flowers. Instead, Orsino opted for something a little less obvious- on his bedside table in his quarters. A shame he couldn’t gaze at it on all those long hours in the office but at least he will get to see it when he retires for the evening.

Now all Orsino needs is to find a way to return the endearing gesture.

**Author's Note:**

> Golly, it is my first piece of fanfiction and I feel like I butchered everybody character-wise. I'm sorry. I can only hope you enjoyed reading this- or something like that.


End file.
